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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26396860">falling again</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheekbonetojawbone/pseuds/cheekbonetojawbone'>cheekbonetojawbone</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>One Direction (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Album: Fine Line (Harry Styles), Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, falling, its sad but not super sad, like diet angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:33:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,777</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26396860</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheekbonetojawbone/pseuds/cheekbonetojawbone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Harry wakes up after another blacked out night to find a cold bed and a partially empty closet, his whole word come collapsing down around him, because his whole world has left.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>66</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Fine Line Fic Fest</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>falling again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic was written for the <a href="https://finelineficfest.tumblr.com//">Fine Line Fic Fest</a>. Make sure you check out all the other great fics in the collection which can be found <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/collections/FineLineFicFest//">here</a>!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>~I’m in my bed and you’re not here~</p><p>The room is too cold for it to be legal, Harry decides. He reaches out to pull his constant heat source closer to him, to find an empty space filled with even colder sheets. He contemplates turning back over and refusing to face the world when a rush of confusion, memories, and hurt come crashing over his now very awake brain.</p><p>~and there’s no one to blame but the drink and my wandering hands~</p><p>He squeezes his eyes shut as he tries to keep his stomach from lurching over more than just his hangover. <em>Breathe in, hold, breathe out</em>. He slowly opens his eyes to take in his surroundings now that the room has stopped spinning. It seems that he slept in his jeans, which frankly is the least of his worries since he can’t even remember how he got back to the flat. Slowly he walks into the bathroom to scrub himself clean from the grime left over from the bar last night, take some paracetamol, and brush his teeth at least twice so he can start to feel like a human again. You’ll figure it out in the shower. Everything is going to be okay. With a final sigh, he steps into the hot water and does his best to sort through the mess he has woken up to.</p><p>~forget what I said, it’s not what I meant~</p><p>Hot water runs down his back as tears rush down his cheeks. It had started off as teasing from an insignificant comment from weeks ago, but it had turned sour. The teasing had led to an argument, and before he knew it, it had spiraled out of control. The worst part was that Harry couldn’t even remember what he had said. All he could remember was shouting while the room stood still, and those beautiful blue eyes flashed with betrayal before going cold.</p><p>~and I can’t take it back~</p><p>Fuck. FUCK! Harry exclaimed as he banged his fist against the sink, staring at himself in the mirror. What the fuck was he supposed to do if he couldn’t even remember what he said? How could he ever take it all back and reassure him that he didn’t mean a word of it? That he could never have any real intention behind anything that could possibly hurt him, that Harry cared way too much and loved him way too deeply to hurt him like that on purpose. But then, he thought, you did hurt him. It was true. While his memory might be failing him on what words he said, there was no escaping the image of his boy’s eyes shining with unshed tears and pain. Suddenly he felt his stomach drop and something click into place. He tore out of the bathroom and ran to their shared closet. He ripped open the doors and immediately fell to his knees. Empty hangers and discarded clothes lined the floor. His suitcases were still in their spot, but his duffel was gone. He was gone. Louis was gone and Harry had driven him away.</p><p>~I can’t unpack the baggage you left~</p><p>Harry supposed that he should drag himself off the couch since it was nearing 3 am and he had already slept on the couch four times this week. He shuffled through the hallway, past the photos lining the hallway, displaying memories he didn’t let himself think about anymore. A shiver rushed through him as he passed the master bedroom, in favor of the guest bed that now housed most of his belongings. It had been on his list for almost two months now to go through their bedroom and sort through the things that were left behind, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Harry swore that every time he opened that door and looked at the cold side of the bed, the closet missing half of its outfits, or the carton of cigarettes left on their balcony table he could feel his heart break a little bit more; and the emptiness of the guest room didn’t hold a candle to the emptiness he felt in that room.</p><p>~What am I now, what am I now?~</p><p>The ceiling was mocking him. Harry squeezed his eyes shut trying to block out the derisive tone of the ceiling fan telling him he belonged here, that he did the unforgivable, that Louis was right to leave and Harry never deserved the chances he did get. The ceiling was right. Harry had lost track of who he was. For more than 5 years, his personality had been wrapped up in Louis; he grew up in love and entwined with him, and for so long he couldn’t look at his life and see where Louis ended and Harry began. So far, it seemed, Harry wasn’t much of anyone anymore.</p><p>~What if I’m someone I don’t want around?~</p><p>Niall was calling again. Harry knew that, realistically, he couldn’t ignore the boys for a third weekend in a row, because he knew what the night would consist of and he didn’t have the energy for it. Harry begrudgingly accepted the call with a pathetic “hello?” and thought he would try to get out of it anyway. <br/>“Harry, mate fuckin finally! What’s the deal? You know we aren’t letting you skip Friday night dinners again.” Niall was loud in his ear. <br/>“I know. I’m sorry.” He responded, barely above a whisper. Niall lowered his voice before he started speaking again, <br/>“Look, I know that this has been hard on you, but that’s why you need to come out with us. You’re never going to feel better sitting in your flat alone, sulking and waiting for something to change.” <br/>The thing is that truly, Harry knew that Niall was right. He knew that staying in the same pair of sweats and binging on netflix mindlessly until he dragged himself to bed was not a productive or helpful routine. The struggle was that Harry felt like a shell of himself, and couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that anyone would want to spend time with him in this mess of a headspace he was in. Harry didn’t like hanging out with himself right now, why would he force his company on others? <br/>“Ni I just really don’t know about going out. It feels wrong to go without him.” and then to himself “everything feels wrong without him.” He heard Niall sigh and could swear he could hear him shaking his head. <br/>“Liam and I will be there in 30. Be ready.” and then he hung up.</p><p>Exactly 28 minutes later there were 3 loud knocks on his front door followed by a loud Irish voice announcing his presence. Harry burrowed deeper into the blankets he had wrapped around him on the couch and stared steadfastly at the TV in front of him. He felt a warm hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Liam’s kind brown eyes looking at him. Liam pursed his lips as he contemplated commenting on Harry’s red-rimmed eyes, but seemed to think better of it and went for a casual <br/>“Hey H. Whatcha watching?” Harry paused to actually focus on the screen in front of him and try to pretend that whatever show was playing was a purposeful choice, and not just a result of Netflix running on its own for who knows how many hours. It looks like one of those ridiculous Netflix reality dating shows with a cast of wanna be influencers. <br/>“Oh, you know, just some high-quality television.This chick is a real winner.” he tries to sound convincing before turning back to the TV and realizing that it’s currently showing an interview of some dude with a bad tan and no shirt. Liam raises one eyebrow at him, but says nothing. Harry watches as Liam has a silent conversation with Niall over his head. He does his best to decipher the conversation through Liam’s eyes and facial expressions. For a minute, it’s not looking good for Li, but it ends with a quick grin on his part before he plops down next to Harry. Niall grabs his keys and yells about texting a takeout order before walking out and slamming the door behind him. Liam is already texting what Harry can only guess is his order, but then, upon closer inspection, he’s texting what he knows is Harry’s go to order from the Indian place around the corner. His heart swells a little and he allows himself the comfort of cuddling into Liam’s side as he watches the screen in front of him change into the middle of a season of The Office, because apparently America has gotten to Liam and infiltrated his previously adequate taste.</p><p>~I’m fallin’ again, I’m fallin’ again, I’m fallin’.~</p><p>There are takeout containers littering Harry’s coffee table, and while Liam is still making somewhat of an effort to throw his empty beer cans into the bin, Niall and Harry have taken to crushing and throwing their cans anywhere vaguely away from them. They abandoned trying to pay attention to whatever show Liam had insisted they would all like in favor of playing a few rounds of FIFA, before finally turning to laughing and swapping old tour memories with the TV screen cycling through pictures of far away landscapes. Harry is humming happily and drifting between consciousness and a blissful sleep since Niall has started playing with his hair. Shortly after the edges of consciousness slip away from Harry, Niall and Liam look up at each other and have another one of their silent conversations. Well, almost silent. Niall lets out a long, whispered “shiiiiit” as he looks around them. The living room has become quite a mess and they both know that if left to it on his own, Harry won’t tidy any of it up for several days at least. Niall quietly gets up and tucks the blanket around the soundly sleeping tree he calls his friend, before taking the leftovers to the kitchen. The two of them clean for a few minutes in companionable silence until they notice. <br/>“Hey Ni, how many do you think you drank tonight?” Liam whispers into the sudden stillness in the room. <br/>“I think I had about 5 or so.” he clears his throat, already knowing what is coming next, but asking anyway “How many do you think you knocked back?” Liam shakes his head, <br/>“Maybe 4 tops but I was taking it pretty easy tonight….” he trails off before sighing and meeting Niall’s eyes again “You’re sure there weren’t any left? You already put the rest in the fridge?” <br/>“No. None” there is a beat before Niall takes the empty 24 pack box and tears it until it’s flat and he can fit it in the recycling. “There were none left” he whispers mostly to himself but it is felt by both of them as they look back at Harry still sleeping peacefully on the couch, unaware that anything is wrong.</p><p>~What if I’m down, what if I’m out?~</p><p>Harry isn’t sure where he is. Or who he’s dancing with. There is a lot of sweat and noise and flashing lights. Someone is yelling in his ear about body shots. Body shots sound like a good idea, don’t they? God there are so many people here. Does he know any of them? It doesn’t seem like it, but the girls are nice aren’t they? He wonders if any of them are putting this on twitter. Harry hates twitter. Stupid people write stupid articles about him on Twitter that aren’t even based on anything. Why do they do that? Who does it help? Fuck them. Harry was here to have fun and forget and he would be damned if he let some reporter’s opinions stop him. He was wearing glitter, dammit! Glitter deserved to be told it was pretty and have its picture taken. Body shots sounded like a good idea.</p><p>~What if I’m someone you won’t talk about?~</p><p>The smell of bacon wafting into his room was enticing enough to wake Harry from his deep, drunken sleep, but sitting up made his stomach twist and revolt. He reached for the paracetamol and water that is waiting on his nightstand and sucked them both down with tightly shut eyes, willing the dizziness away. He didn’t remember drinking enough to be this hungover. Lord knows that his tolerance is higher than most. He definitely didn’t remember meeting up with any of his friends and is sure that he didn’t try to pull, so he isn’t totally sure who is making the aforementioned bacon but Harry isn’t too bothered. Once the pills have had time to settle and the glass of water is no longer full, Harry shuffles out of bed. He groggily throws on a pair of joggers and shuffles out into the hallway, rubbing his eyes, to see just who the hell is in his kitchen. Halfway there he hears Liam’s unmistakable laugh. He groans internally, knowing that Liam being here is probably not a great sign for how the night finished. Harry continues his slow shuffle to the kitchen but as he reaches the door he stops. <br/>“Li, I’m tellin ya it was the funniest shit I’ve ever seen!” Harry’s heart stops. He knows that voice. <br/>“Louis you tosser, I can’t believe you got away with that!” he hears Liam reply with a chuckle. <br/>“Anyway mate, I’ll let you get back to...wait I never asked. What are you doing this fine morning Payno?” Louis’ lighthearted tone and strong accent coming through the speaker phone. Liam pauses before answering, <br/>“Oh, well I’m just cooking up breakfast….” he pauses again “at umm...at Harry’s place. I..uhh... took him home last night.” Harry can hear the sharp intake of breath from the other side of the line and swears he can see Louis’ tight pressed lips and eyebrows furrowed together, like he had seen so many times before. <br/>“Right. Well I will leave you to it then. Talk later.” and with that the line goes dead. Harry’s stomach lurches. Just the mention of his name is enough to take Louis from lighthearted laughing to cold and shut off before hanging up the phone? Fuck. He takes a shuddering breath in before moving all the way into the kitchen. <br/>“Mornin’ Li.” he breathes out as he crosses over to the kitchen island and hoists himself on top of it, feet dangling, hands in his lap. <br/>“Hey Harry, coffee?” Liam asks as he starts to fill a mug anyway. “How’s the head?” he asks with his all knowing eyes. <br/>“Getting slightly better now that the paracetamol is kicking in. I assume that was your good thinking that left them there for me?” Harry asked as he sipped slowly from his steaming mug, letting the smell of coffee and feeling of warm liquid seep into his bones. “So, Li, not to say I don’t enjoy your company, but can you fill me in on what you’re doing here this early?” Liam let out a sigh and turned back to the stove to fiddle with the eggs cooking in the pan. <br/>“I had a feeling you wouldn’t remember.” he says before taking a deep breath and turning to face Harry again. Harry looked into Liam’s soft brown puppy eyes that were shiny with hurt. “Charlie called me last night. Said that you were being reckless and were yelling for someone to get paps to show up and ‘get their fill’,” he puts air quotes around his words and looks at Harry incredulously. “By the time I got there you had girls falling all over you, your shirt was ripped, and you were yelling at the paps that you ‘hoped they would get the story they always wanted’. So,” Liam huffed and rolled his shoulders back, “I finally convinced you to get in the car with me and I brought you back here. You puked on the stairs, so I stuck you in the shower and put you to bed. I crashed on the couch.” Harry had ducked his head down and was staring into his coffee when Liam finished. When he looks up again and sees those puppy eyes, he holds the contact, trying to let Liam read the apology in his eyes. Liam shakes his head, turns back to the stove and starts to plate the eggs and bacon. When he turns around again, handing Harry the plate, he whispers with pleading eyes this time <br/>“You have to get help.” before grabbing his jacket off the barstool and heading towards the front door. Harry doesn’t bother trying to stop him, knowing anything he says at this point will only be a lie and lead to more hurt on both ends. He picks at his food as the conversation from this morning plays again and again in his mind. The sound of Louis’ laugh….Liam’s reluctance to mention him….Louis going cold and hanging up….Liam’s hurt voice….the look in his eyes when he said- He can’t do this. He can’t fucking do this. He slides off the counter and walks to the cabinet next to the sink to grab a bottle of whiskey that he pours into his coffee before plopping on the couch. Hangovers were meant for Sundays anyway.</p><p>~I’m fallin’ again, I’m fallin’ again, I’m fallin’.~</p><p>Harry blinks his eyes open to a living room that is suddenly a lot darker than it was what felt like just minutes ago. He glances at the clock and realizes that almost 3 hours have passed since he decided to turn on reality TV and have a chill afternoon on his couch, ignoring the fact that it had been days, weeks maybe, since he did anything else. He looked up to see what was playing on the TV at this point and his heart stopped. Splashed on his TV screen was a picture of him from a few months ago next to a picture of Louis. He grabbed for the remote and pressed rewind until his picture disappeared, turned the volume up, and pressed play. “Some inside sources say that the infamous Larry Stylinson have called it quits. Famous ex-boybanders Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles have been rumored to have been in a gay relationship since the early days of One Direction, but has this dynamic duo come to an end similair to the bands? Reports say that Tomlinson has not been spotted near his rumored shared flat with Styles in a couple of weeks, and has stopped going to some of his regular shops in London. Has Louis moved on from a friendship, or was there really something more? Stay tuned for more.” The woman on screen fades away into a commercial but Harry has lost the ability to process anything happening to him. Everything is silent in the room except for a loud buzzing in his ears. The rumors had always bothered him when they got media attention, but this was….different. Who the fuck were the sources they were mentioning, because he definitely doesn’t remember having any meetings discussing this as a media strategy. His heart was racing and his stomach was in knots. He felt tears threatening to spill out of his eyes as he kept staring at the screen that had briefly shown him the love of his life. Harry hadn’t looked at any pictures of Louis without being several drinks in in a long time. He pushed himself off the cushions and made a dash for the kitchen, searching for anything to take the edge off. The first thing he gets his hands on is a bottle of Four Pillars he had gotten from some promo event last year. It’s bottle describes it as “Navy Strength” but the sweet little numbers declaring the bottle 118 proof will do the trick nicely. He unscrews the cap and forgoes the use of a glass, taking a generous gulp of the gin and letting the feeling of fire in his throat bring something back to him. After a few more drinks, he is starting to feel better, he thinks, more like himself. He takes another drink.</p><p>~You said you care, and you missed me too~</p><p>There is maybe a quarter left in his bottle of Navy gin but Harry doesn’t feel better anymore. Somewhere near half the bottle, he had the bright idea of digging up his old fan account on tumblr to see what people were saying about him and the new breakup rumors (well he would call them rumors even if they were<em> technically</em>  the truth) but had instead found himself on a long journey of rediscovering memories from their early years. Many had tagged them as ‘baby boyfriend’ posts and as much it hurt Harry to see picture after picture of himself looking at Louis like he was the sun himself, what hurt even more was being reminded of the way Louis used to look at him. He would get that proud, fond look on his face that Harry absolutely preened under. He loved making his boy proud. When he came across the lyric analysis for his own songs is about the same time he lost touch with reality for a bit. He remembers what it was like to write those songs for Lou and play him bits and pieces, just teasing at what it could be and never playing it proper for him until it was perfect, because he deserved for it to be perfect. He remembered how their first big fight had turned them both into complete messes and Harry had retreated to write it all out and lay his feelings onto a melody. He remembered how writing had felt good, cathartic and necessary, but that as soon as he had gotten those lyrics onto paper, his heart hurt. He remembered calling Louis then and there and talking it out, reminding Louis that he was the love of his life. Remembered writing the beginnings of what would become one of his favorite songs for his boy in their bed late that night, with one hand on the hip of the most perfect man, and one hand trying to put into words just how wonderful Harry thought he was. Harry should call him. Of course! Harry should call him! That is what had worked the last time they fought like this, right? Harry called and Louis came home and it was better. The tiny part of his brain that wasn’t soaked in gin tried to remind him that Harry had been sending Louis texts since the day he woke up alone, but was quickly shushed by his too loud heart. He dialled without another thought. Ring. This was going to work. Louis would come back and they could fix this. Ring, Or at least start to fix this, well, work on it at least. Let Harry explain. Ring. Fuck, what was Harry thinking? Louis wasn’t going to answer! Ring. What time was it? Would Louis even wake up to look at his phone this late at night? Ring. Harry was going to hang up. He was going to hang up and just- <br/>“Hello?” Harry had stopped breathing. Breathe Harry! Inhale! <br/>“Hi.” His voice cracked on the one fucking syllable he had to get out. <br/>“Is everything okay Harry? Do you need someone to come and get you?” Louis asked without any concern in his voice. Just exhaustion and weariness coating his words. <br/>“No everything is fine. I’m fine. Well...I’m not fine technically...because of all...you know...this, and well” Harry stopped his rambling for a moment before taking another deep breath “I miss you Louis. I really fucking miss you.” There is nothing for a few moments so Harry and his drunk brain rush to fill the silence. “I miss everything about you Lou. I miss the smell of your hair first thing in the morning. The way you would insist on cooking me breakfast in bed on a random weekend and then refuse to do any of the dishes. I miss you playing our piano. I miss,” he takes another gulp of air “I miss how you used to look at me, when you were proud of me, you know? I miss every single bit of you Louis.” he can feel the tears on his cheeks, but doesn’t remember when he started to cry. It’s silent between both of them for a few more moments before Harry hears a shuddering breath come through the line. <br/>“I miss you too H, I do, okay? But I’ve been missing you a lot longer.” The call is ended before Harry can respond, but to be honest he has no idea what he would even say. Sobs wreck his body as Louis’ words tear through him again and again. How long has Harry been hurting Louis? How long has he been gone? He catches a glimpse of the almost empty bottle of gin and instinctively reaches for it, about to down another gulp when fury takes over his body. This, he thinks, is it. This is why Louis left and can’t even stand to say more than a couple of words to you now. This is why you’ve become someone you can’t even recognize in the mirror anymore. This is why time and days have lost all meaning. Because you’ve drunken yourself into a miserable monster, he thinks. He grips the bottle harder and then throws it at the wall with a guttural yell, before falling back down to the floor and crying harder. He let the love of his life slip away because he couldn’t admit he needed to stop. He needs to stop. Harry wipes snot and tears away with the blanket he has pulled off of the couch, before wrapping himself up in it and laying back down on the cold floor. Tomorrow, he decides. Tomorrow will be different.</p><p>~and I’m well aware I write too many songs about you~</p><p>It’s not easy. To be fair, literally nobody told him it was going to be easy, but Harry had foolishly hoped it would be at least a bit easier by now! His well-stocked bank account had afforded him the luxury of a rehab that didn’t look or feel like a clinic at all, and had staff that didn’t blink an eye when handed the NDA’s by his manager. Harry had never felt more alone than he did the first night he spent at the clinic, trying to think of the last time he had fallen asleep sober. His increased insomnia seemed like a very unnecessary side effect, especially tied in with the spike in his anxiety, but his new therapist was helping him work through it. Nadia, to her credit, was exceptional at her job. Harry had warmed to her quickly and liked to start his sessions checking in on her wife and 3 rescue pugs. But today was his first day back in the studio in months, and he was itching for a drink to calm his nerves just a little. He had been writing here and there, but not much of substance before he left, but the start of week two at the clinic was like the curtain finally being drawn back. Words had rushed out of him and straight into his journal for hours at a time, day after day, with melodies playing on repeat in his head (he hadn’t been allowed his phone even to record himself). Now here he was, sitting in his car staring at the building that felt like it held the world’s expectations and all of Harry’s obligations inside. He took some of the grounding breaths that Nadia had taught him and reminded himself that today was just Alex and Tyler going over what he had written so far and starting to flesh out one or two songs. It was supposed to be an easy day, so why did he still feel like he needed to pour some whiskey into his very mediocre cup of coffee? One more breath and then he was going to open the door and go in. In..2...3..out..2...3. Okay, he thought, time to face the music. Literally. As he’s walking in, he scrolls through his phone to find the chain of unanswered texts he is hoping will one day turn back into a conversation one day, and types out a quick message as he steps through the glass doors. <em>Hey Lou, starting back at the studio today. Weird walking in without you.</em> He locks his phone before he can dwell on it too long. It remains unread.</p><p>~and the coffee’s out at the Beechwood Cafe~</p><p>“Harry please! You need to calm down!” Liam looked at him with that stupid worried look on his face that he always got when Harry was reacting perfectly fucking rationally thank you very much. “Former Boy Bander Harry Styles Spotted with a New Mystery Woman” was written in big ugly letters on the front page along with pull quotes that were less than flattering, so Harry was yelling. <br/>“They are making me out to look like a complete fucking asshole who is willing to stick his dick in anyone within reach, Liam! Well not <em>anyone</em> of course. Can’t be just <em>ANYONE</em>! It has to be the thin pretty model women who look ‘complimentary’ in pap photos. Like I’m some douche who just uses women as play things and I’m NOT” he choked on a sob “Liam, I’m not that fucking person.” tears now flowing freely down his face. Liam wrapped him up into his arms and tried to comfort Harry as best as possible while his fragile friend kept whispering into his shirt “I’m not Li. I promise that’s not me. That’s not me.” <br/>“Shhh H, it’s okay. I know that’s not you. I know.” he assured, rubbing circles on his back. Harry tries to swallow down the guilt he feels when he thinks that Louis always knew how to cuddle him and calm him down just right whenever press like this was pushed. Harry sniffled and pulled himself out of Liam’s embrace to wipe his nose. <br/>“I think I’m just going to go to bed, Li. Thanks for coming over.” Harry knows he’s being short and should be way more grateful for Liam and probably invite him to stay and actually spend time together, but he feels like all the energy has been sucked out of him. <br/>“You know I’m here for you, H. Anytime” Liam gives him one of those signature ‘Liam Payne is an actual teddy bear’ smiles before squeezing his arm and heading out. Harry turns to head back towards the guest room (yes he is still sleeping there, no he still can’t call it his bedroom) when he gets an idea. He goes straight for his closet and grabs a hoodie, beanie, and slips on his Vans before running out the door. As he turns the corner to face their favorite little coffee shop, Harry can already feel the wave of peace wash over him. It’s closed now, obviously, as it’s nearing 9pm, but he goes to sit in their spot on the patio and just breathe in the familiarity of it all. If he closes his eyes enough, he can almost feel Louis’ hand in his, the smell of his yorkshire tea, the sweet smell of pastries coming from inside. Before he can think any better of it, he takes his phone out from his pocket and sends a text to Louis, knowing it won’t get a response, but still foolishly hoping this one might get read at the very least. <em>At our old cafe, thinking about that time in the summer we came every day for a week straight. I could still see the crinkles by your eyes when I made you laugh, even behind those ridiculous sunglasses.</em> He tucks his phone away and leans his head back against the window, breathing in the night air. He can stay a little longer, he thinks. At least until he can’t smell the scent of tea and carefree love in the air anymore.</p><p>~and it kills me cause I know we’ve run out of things we can say.~</p><p>It had been a good couple of months since Harry had gone to any industry parties, and while Nick Grimshaw’s parties rarely felt like industry parties, it was still all the same people and Harry really wasn’t ready to defend his new lifestyle choices to everyone the whole night. He made his way to the bar and asked for a virgin raspberry mojito to sip on so he would be able to keep up appearances and his 6 month chip that was almost within reach. Even if his drink was really just fancy soda water, juice and leaves, it felt familiar and comforting in his hand. He wandered around the room some until someone shouted for him, and he was brought into a group talking and laughing about the ridiculous actions of their host the past week. He relaxes into it and finds himself blending seamlessly into the atmosphere. He’s good at this part, has always been able to talk to anyone about anything, and enjoys getting to be a tiny part of someone else’s life story. He smiles to himself as one of his favorite jokes lands before offering to grab a refill for anyone that needs it. <br/>“A scotch soda and another one of those special mojitos for me please” he winks at the bartender and turns to face the room around him. Nick has quite the turnout and an impressive guest list and he nods and waves at a few familiar faces he sees in the crowd. It’s when he is about to start walking back to his group with the drinks in his hand that he spots the only familiar face that matters. He locks onto the bright blue eyes shining from across the room and Harry swears that time stands still. Harry opens his mouth to try to say something when he sees Louis’ eyes drop to his hands, still holding two fresh drinks, before flicking back up to his eyes and turning his back completely. “Shit” he let out under his breath before handing the scotch to Greg and making quick excuses as he started towards where he could still see the back of Louis’ head. He was about halfway through the throng of people when he got stopped by Maya roping him in for a hug. To be fair, it had been a while since Harry really saw any of these people, much less gone out, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise that people were eager to catch up with him after so many months away, but Harry was desperate to get to Louis and try to talk to him. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and made his excuses to leave, but when he turned around, Louis had vanished from his spot. Harry quickly did another scan of the room, hoping he hadn’t missed his chance to try to say something, anything to him. He was about to give up hope when someone moved towards the bathroom and revealed an ass that could only belong to one person in this world. He looks fit in a blue suit tailored to stop above his bare ankles. His mind tried to trail off thinking about the last time he got to see that particular ass look like that, but shook his head, ran a hand through his hair, and marched over with purpose. Louis was talking to Nick and some others in a small circle, so Harry knew he wouldn’t be able to run away even if he sensed Harry coming to join them. As he neared, he caught Nick’s eyes and gave a small smile before he heard <br/>“Harry! Mate, I’ve been missing you all night sweetie!” Harry smiled at this perfect opening and laughed with Nick shouting back <br/>“I could never stay away long sweetheart!” before embracing Nick and turning to face the group around him. He can feel his eyes on him is the thing, and now that he’s here, standing in front of Louis for the first time in months, Harry can’t figure out how to actually look at him. He laughs and chats with Nick and his friends, all while somehow avoiding eye contact with Louis who is standing directly opposite him. He’s afraid of what he will see when he looks into the eyes that Harry used to be able to read like a story. He finally gathers the courage and meets the eyes that are already waiting for him. If Harry was worried that he wouldn’t be able to read Louis after so long, but there was really no need. Although Louis’ face showed almost no expression, his eyes were swimming with a mix of hurt, disappointment, and what Harry hated to admit was fear. Louis was scared of Harry. Harry had seen the hurt and the disappointment enough times to recognize them, but the fear was new and twisted and tore at his heart. He swallowed down the bile that was threatening to spill out at the thought that the man who he had been in love with for six years was looking at him now, with fear. He tore his eyes away and stared at the ground for a few moments before looking back at Nick and making his excuses before turning away and heading straight for the exit.</p><p>~I’m fallin’ again, I’m fallin’ again, I’m fallin’.~</p><p>He feels a little bit like this is some kind of cheesy 90’s movie as he runs out of the party trying hard to blink back tears. He orders his Uber and waits on the corner with his arms holding his sides together, because right now he feels sure they would break apart if he let go. When his Uber pulls up to the curb, it’s like his brain switches on to autopilot. All he can see when he closes his eyes is Louis’ looking back at him with fear before it turns into disgust and hatred and he has to open his eyes again and take gulping breaths to hold it together. He guesses he must have told the driver his gate code at some point because the next thing he knows he is standing just outside his front door. He shouldn’t be here alone. He should have his partner next to him, fumbling with the keys while Harry is pressing kisses into his neck and holding onto his waist. They should be stumbling through the door, connected at each other’s mouths and staggering back into their bedroom together. Their bedroom. With that thought Harry rips open the door and tears into the kitchen, reaching on top of the cabinets for the bottle he knows is still up there. He unscrews the cap and takes a swig before he can even think about what it means. He takes another drink when his mind catches up to his actions and resolves that he’s broken his streak anyway, so he might as well go all in, right? He leaves the cap in the kitchen as he walks down the hallway to their bedroom. He hasn’t gone in there in months, not really. Occasionally he will need a specific piece that is still in their walk-in, but it’s always in and out. Tonight he takes his time, savoring in the way his broken heart is hurting, relishing the pain because at least it means he still cares. Harry’s fingers dance over the book left on Louis’ nightstand, running up and down the spine. He drinks, and reaches for the duvet and pulls it up to his face, and when he inhales Harry swears he can still smell Louis’ shampoo and the touch of smoke. The floodgates open and sobs wreck Harry’s body as he pulls the duvet off the bed to wrap himself in it before sinking to the floor. It had been almost a year since he slept in that bed, and even though he may have broken his sobriety tonight, he was resolute in never sleeping in that bed without Louis again. He took a few more sips from the bottle and felt the familiar burn down the back of his throat.</p><p>~and I get the feeling that you’ll never need me again.~</p><p>Harry had been wallowing for what felt like an eternity but was actually been closer to an hour when his phone started ringing, forcing a break in his broken record of unfavorable thoughts. He thinks about ignoring it, assuming that it’s Niall or Liam calling to check on him, or Nick wondering if he was coming to the after party. When he looked at the screen, the name glowing in the dark surprised him. He reluctantly swiped his thumb across the screen to accept the call. <br/>“Hello?” he sniffled into the phone. <br/>“You need to stop.” <br/>“Zayn? What are you-?” Harry questioned. He hadn’t talked to Zayn since before Louis left so he really wasn’t sure what Zayn knew about, well, everything. <br/>“You have to stop Harry. You have to stop with the texts and the drunken calls to Louis.” Zayn seethed. It was over the phone and it still sent a shiver down Harry’s spine. “And you absolutely have to stay the fuck away from him at parties. What the fuck were you thinking?” Zayn’s voice didn’t need to be loud to cut Harry down. <br/>“I know it was wrong, and I shouldn't have done that, but Zee you have to understand that I-” Harry got cut off. <br/>“No, I do not need to understand a bloody thing from you Harry. I understand that Louis is crying on my balcony right now, chain smoking and pretending that he will be alright, but he’s not. You are hurting him, Harry. Everytime you do something stupid and selfish again, you are hurting him and he doesn’t need this Harry. He doesn’t deserve to keep getting hurt by you.” Zayn snapped. <br/>“I didn’t-” Harry whimpered but Zayn was quicker. <br/>“Enough Harry. You have to let this be enough.” he sighed. The room filled up with a new kind of silence that made Harry’s skin crawl. He knew he had fucked up in the beginning and that he was the reason everything fell to shit, but how had he become so self-absorbed to forget that Louis would be hurting too? His eyes burned as he reached for the bottle again, and as he brought it to his lips, the blood in his veins turned ice cold. This isn’t who he was anymore. This isn’t who he wanted to be. Not for Louis, and not for himself. He threw the bottle hard at the wall and watched as it smashed into shiny pieces. This was the end, he promised himself. This was the last time.</p><p>
  <span class="u">1 year later</span>
</p><p>~what am I now, what am I now~</p><p>“Hello, I’m Harry and I’m an alcoholic. Today I am one year sober.” he spoke out loudly to the room, his voice only wavering slightly.</p><p>~what if you’re someone I just want around?~</p><p>It was a long shot. Harry knew that. Hell, Harry wouldn’t be surprised if it wasn’t even the current number, but he had to try. <br/><em>Hi Louis, it’s Harry. If you could, I would really like to meet you at our old spot, you know the patio table at Beechwood? I know it’s a lot to ask, but there are some things I would really like to tell you. I’ll be there tomorrow at 9. Xx H</em> <br/>It takes every bit of self control Harry has to lock his phone and return it to his pocket, before walking into the Sony building. It wasn’t until almost four hours later, after walking out of what felt like the longest meeting of his life, that he checked to see that his message now said <em>Read at: 12:24</em>. He smiled a small smile to himself and allowed just a little glimmer of hope to flutter in his chest.</p><p>~I’m falling again~</p><p>When he turns the corner onto Beechwood's street, he can see Louis already sitting in their spot staring down at his phone, tea in hand. He stops for just a second to take it all in, because, Harry thinks, no matter how many times he sees him, Louis will always take his breath away. He walks up to the same familiar table they had spent so many hours at before and puts his 1 year sobriety chip down next to Louis’ cup. Voice trembling and betraying his nerves, Harry says a simple “Hey Lou.”</p><p>~I’m falling again~</p><p>Louis looks up at him through those stupidly pretty eyelashes and for the first time in a long time those blue eyes are warm with him. Guarded, and wary, he thinks he sees, but warm. <br/>“Hey H,” Louis murmurs and gestures to the chair next to him. Harry tries to keep his hand from shaking as he pulls the chair out, making sure to give Louis a little extra space on his side of the table. Harry’s nervous and he’s doing what he can not to make it totally obvious. <br/>“Is your tea alright?” Smooth Harry, really fucking obvious that you know how to have a normal conversation. <br/>“Yeah, yeah. It’s alright.” Louis responds. “You getting any?” he gestures behind him to the till inside. <br/>“In a bit probably. I, uhm..” Harry is stuttering over his words and feels ridiculous at the fact that he can’t seem to remember how to talk to the person who once knew every thought he had. He takes one of his tried and true grounding breaths, casts his eyes down at the table and starts again. “I know it is so much to ask, because of how much I hurt you in the past, and then continued to hurt you while thinking only of myself, but if I may, Louis, I would really like to apologize and tell you about the changes I’ve made in my life to be better.” He cautiously raises his eyes back up to search for the disappointment he had seen in those blue eyes so many times before, but all he sees staring back at him are calm blue waters. Louis smiles a small smile and crinkles his eyes just a bit as he says <br/>“Go ahead H, I’m here. I’m listening.”</p><p>~I’m fallin’~</p><p>end.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi hey hello! I hope you liked my first attempt at writing my favorite boys! I want to give a special shoutout to Shley for reading this and enduring my own drunken ramblings and random texts about choices throught this fic. It wouldn't have happened without you! I love you so much! Comments and Kudos are SO appreciated! Xx</p></blockquote></div></div>
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